


warm hands, warm touch

by gabriphales



Series: gomens drabble hell [31]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23955670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: crowley lets himself be looked after for once
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: gomens drabble hell [31]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664713
Kudos: 43





	warm hands, warm touch

**Author's Note:**

> somebody pls give crowley a break thanks for coming to my ted talk

aziraphale's hands are gentle as they come combing through his hair. stroking against his scalp, soothing over the spots where crowley's been tugging, pulling at the roots, tearing at the strands until some break loose. his head is pulled into aziraphale's chest, the soft wool of his sweater tickling at his wet, flushed cheeks. the petting doesn't stop, and crowley doesn't know whether to tremble under the attention, or seek out more of it. he nestles closer, and aziraphale whispers something quiet, comforting - full of adoration beyond what crowley can process.

"love you," aziraphale tells him. "i love you, love you more than i've ever loved anything in this world."

crowley snorts, the sound coming out brittle and uncertain from his tired throat. "we've been around for a while, so that means a lot."

aziraphale's voice picks up on humming a gentle, pleasant tune. crowley can almost pinpoint where they last heard it. they were together, he's certain of that. perhaps some time in the sixteen hundreds, or maybe it's from that old masquerade ball they both attended. either way, the familiarity makes his heart settle down in his chest, calming him with remembrance.

"nothing's ever compared to you. i don't think anything ever will." aziraphale says, shuffling crowley further atop his lap, and providing himself with an array of affections far more easy to deliver with the advantage of their new position. he kisses that furled, screwed-tight brow, pecking at crowley's forehead until the demon gives up his tense expression with a weary, accepting giggle. his hands rest on crowley's back now. one stroking up and down the length of his spine, the other steady between his shoulder blades. holding him still, keeping him grounded, secure. an unmoving presence that can never be tampered with. aziraphale wouldn't let him go for anything. and crowley knows that now. crowley knows it, even if he so _very_ often forgets.

"angel," crowley croaks out, sounding smaller than he'd like to be. "when you said you forgave me - during armageddon, y'know, when we were bickering - "

"as if i'd ever forget that. i was terribly rude to you, and i'll spend the rest of eternity trying to make it up to you."

"shush, don't think like that. what i'm trying to say is - did you... did you really mean it? did you think i could be forgiven?"

and aziraphale's eyes widen exponentially, realization crawling through each and every one of his features. his lower lip wobbles, and he has to take a deeper breath to stabilize himself. he's thinking, crowley can tell. thinking of what to say, what's the best way to word things, how to be careful without coddling his lover.

finally, he makes a decision. "yes, darling. i'll always believe that."

crowley's silent for a moment. simply lingering in the afterglow of aziraphale's admission, and everything it means, everything it says about his angel's opinion of him.

"then you really think the almighty would let me back up there? if i ever wanted to." he asks. aziraphale nods before there's a minute to spare. he nods in the exact manner that lets crowley know he's been dithering over this idea for the past thousand years or so, and has finally, _finally_ come to a conclusion he's certain of.

"don't know if i agree. but i like knowing you think that. makes me feel like the most special demon in the world." he laughs, letting his tone drift into humored sarcasm as aziraphale cocks a brow at him. his angel's smiling again, at least. and he's always thankful for that. always thankful that he can lift the mood of any conversation just as easily as he can bring it down. and he's trying to remind himself that aziraphale likes to care for him just as much as he cares for aziraphale, trying to keep that in mind every time he has another one of these little fits. but it's difficult, often more difficult than prescribing himself the initial demands in the first place. the demands to let himself be loved, protected, inadmissably adored.

still, aziraphale always manages to lighten the blow of vulnerability. and it's getting easier every day. they're getting better, he can feel it. soon enough, this won't be hard to feel anymore. 

soon enough, he'll enjoy what aziraphale can give to him.


End file.
